


Et in Arcadia ego

by Cirilla9



Category: Borgias - Ambiguous Fandom, The Borgias (2011)
Genre: Assassination, Crimes, Historical Inaccuracy, Italian Mafia, Italy, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Renaissance Era, Sins, Slavery, s01e04 lucrezia's wedding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-08-14 08:24:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8005624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cirilla9/pseuds/Cirilla9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A development of a scene where Cesare was so captivated by the savage from a New World.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The idea came to me almost immediately after watching this scene. I made the Indian a little more.. muscled and handsome.

\- We understand the royal Spanish highnesses wish us to view this savage? – asked Alexander VI.

They brought him in and Cesare stopped thinking about Lucrezia’s wedding for a moment. Four armored soldiers surrounded him. One of them led him by a chain attached to the metal collar. The cuffs were almost all he wore, a leather loincloth his only covering.

He made short steps, couldn’t move much in his bonds but the muscles were visible under the dark skin. He was practically naked and Cesare could see the sinews of his tights playing as he walked, the abs on his stomach, the tense biceps. The muscles were well-defined but not overbig. He had the built of a bowman rather than a swordsman, Cesare accessed. His shoulders were narrower than his own, he was all smaller than the men gathered in the room but he got good proportions.

Black hair, black eyes, hairless chest, a naked skin kissed by the sun – a _savage_ indeed, untouched by civilization and unmarred by it.

His face was blank, showing no expression at all. If he was impressed of the richness surrounding him, he did not show that. He stared straight ahead without even looking at them, his thoughts miles away. Maybe in his home…

His Holiness was discussing the New World with the supplicants but Cesare barely listened to them, fascinated by the wildling. As the subject of the dialogue turned on to the faith, the soldiers wanted to present the prisoner’s conversion.

\- Kneel! – barked out the one who held the leash.

When the savage didn’t obey quick enough, the soldier from behind hit him under the knee with the butt of the spear. The captive went to his knees without a wince or any noise, though the strike must had hurt.

\- Speak! – the soldier commanded.

The kneeling man raised his hands as to the pray and mumbled:

\- Credo in Unum Deum.

Cesare doubted he understood his own words. His heart leaped at the rough treatment, at seeing the man trained like the dog to do the tricks. He walked to the prisoner, unable to stay away any longer. His action directed everyone’s attention at him but nobody protested aloud.

Cardinal stopped before the prisoner, looking down at the black mop of hair. The savage acted like everything happening to him was happening to someone else, like he was only a watcher. Cesare reached out with his hand, grabbed the man’s chin and lifted his head up. Dull eyes looked up like they didn’t see him. Pope’s son forced the man before him upward, tugging steadily with his palm.

\- What Eden have they torn you from? – he asked, stroking the man’s cheek with his fingers.

That got him the reaction finally. Black eyes darted to his own, spark of life lightened in them and the savage seemed to be fully aware for the first time since dragged here.

\- Eden, - he repeated. – Eden, Eden.

The soldier that held the chain pulled the captive back, choking further words, and Cesare stepped back also. By the law it was their possession after all. He returned to his previous place to the rest of the cardinals, still studying the wildling from afar. The savage didn’t look at him anymore, fallen back into his stupor.

The pope discussed the Spain throne matters and Fernando and Isabella ambitions while Cesare plotted how to get the savage. They brought him just for a show but perhaps they could be persuaded to sell him. And if not, there was always Micheletto.


	2. Chapter 2

\- This is a very good wine, your excellency.

\- Drink some more, captain, - Cesare refilled the soldier’s cup and gestured encouragingly toward it.

He had asked the Spanish commander the same day they had visited the court. The man had seemed a little tense on the beginning, unsure of what to expect but nobody dared to turn down pope’s son invitation. Cesare had engaged him in a conversation about the New World and he looked relaxed by now. The more he drunk, the more talkative he was.

\- So your campaign has been successful?

\- Has been and it still will be. Local people treats us like we were gods, they trade gold for unworthy trash with us. The New World is undying source of richness. We give them civilization and they pay us lavishly for it, both sides capitalize upon it. There are, of course, some that do not welcome us so kindly but those we can handle quickly. We won few battles there already. If one can call it a battle, that is. These barbarians are afraid to meet us in the open field and they attack from the cover. It’s better not to go alone into the woods there, you may never come back.

\- I’m curious about these brutes’ weapons.

Cesare pour captain more wine and raised his own goblet. The Spanish mirrored him though he drunk to the bottom while Cesare sipped only one swallow.

\- Weapons, - snorted conquistador with disdain. – Weapons of the cowards. Poisoned arrows, traps hidden in the bush, camouflage. I swear, you can walk two steps from an Indian and you won’t see him.

The captain’s tone was getting more impersonal but cardinal Borgia didn’t scold him for that. He filled captain’s cup instead.

\- They are primitive also like a child’s toy. There is one that is just a piece of cane, nothing more! They have little sharp bullets for it, poisoned naturally, and they shot by blowing into it.

That sounded really interesting. And useful too. He would have to talk to Micheletto about it but that was not the main reason he had asked the captain to his palace tonight. He decided they could move to it, the soldier was drunk enough.

\- This savage you brought home with you… Is he one of those who are not so happy of your presence in the New World?

\- He was, - the captain laughed. – He’s been tamed. Now, as you could see, he is obedient little slave.

\- I’d like to buy him.

The soldier stopped laughing and looked curiously at Cesare.

\- Buy him, your excellency? – he reminded himself he should use the title. – What would cardinal want a savage for?

\- What I want from him is my own business.

Spanish smiled wickedly.

\- I’ll must disappoint you, your excellency. He’s not for sale.

\- Why? You showed him off already. What use is he to you now? You have to feed him, guard him, keep him in chains. I can relieve you of that responsibility.

\- You see, cardinal, I’m a captain. A commander to my troop. And a good commander cares about his people’s needs. This savage became something like a… plaything. A source of entertainment through a long sail on the ocean. They got attached. I don’t want to take that away from them.

Cesare fought to keep his face calm.

\- But surely they have enough entertainment here. There are inns, brothels, hazard pits. They are rich, young and famous. A world stands open before them.

\- All of this is true. But you forgot, your excellency, there are many whores on these shores and probably only one Indian.

Cesare winced inwardly at the wasted evening. Micheletto then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems promising or bad? What do you think? Please, tell me.


	3. Chapter 3

\- I’ve got a task for you, Micheletto.

\- Another, my lord? – the words were humble in tone and insolent in contents, as always.

Cesare grabbed the assassin by the neck and dragged him in a corner.

\- I want you to kidnap someone for me, - he said, leaning close to Micheletto’s face.

\- And who would that be?

Cesare let go of his scruff and played with his vest oddly.

\- You saw Spanish delegacy?

Micheletto stole a glance of his master’s face, looking only with his eyes, not raising his head.

\- You want me to kidnap a legate?

\- No, of course not. Their, - Cesare rubbed at the fabrics of his clothes, - prisoner.

Micheletto thought about the Spanish conquistadors entering the Holy City with a great pump. There was a caged wagon too… realization came to him.

\- The savage?

\- Yes, the savage, - Cesare smiled at him. – When everyone will be at Lucrezia’s wedding. I’ll make sure Spanish legates get the invitations. You’ll have a free pass. Don’t disappoint me this time, Micheletto. – He clapped assassin’s arm and walked away.

 

* * *

 

 

The Borgia’s assassin walked into the mansion for city’s noble guests dressed like a servant, carrying a demijohn of wine. Nobody stopped him, nobody guarded the servant’s door and nobody he passed was interested in him.

He choose stairs leading down. Like all self-respecting roman houses, the mansion possessed the dungeons. Micheletto reached a corridor enlightened with torches. He moved forward, after several steps he heard voices. He stopped, listening.

They were close, just two people speaking. The rattling sounds came probably from a dice game. Micheletto stood silently, pressed to the wall, listening to the shreds of conversation. They were talking in Spanish but a good assassin – and the redhead was surely a professional one - knew the value of information and knew several languages, Spanish was one of them.

\- I win, he’s mine.

\- The third time in a row!

\- Lucky am I.

The answer was too silent to hear.

\- You call me a cheater?! You loser. Here, check the bones if you want, while I’m enjoying my win.

\- I’ll do this, you can be sure.

The sound of shoving the chair, then rattling of the keys and opening up the squeaky metal door.

\- You, hands and knees, - was speaking the one that walked into a cell.

The other one was silent, probably inspecting the dices.

\- Quickly, - the voice urged, a statement followed by a sound like kicking someone.

The silence fell for a while. Then, unmistakably the sounds of sex came to Micheletto’s ear: the slamming of skin against bare skin, the ragged breaths, joined with the groans after a while. He heard just one person though. The prisoner was completely silent. Maybe they gagged him. All the better, he wouldn’t make too much noise when the assassin came for him.

Micheletto knew all he wanted to know. Two bored guards and the captive, no one else. No sound of chains, the savage shouldn’t be attached to the wall then, which would make the whole thing quicker. He waited for the door to squeak again, then a moment longer.

\- Did you find something?

\- Nothing yet.

\- And you won’t, I told you, I’m the most honest man you’ll ever know. Give ‘em here, another round.

Micheletto resumed his walk without haste.

\- You there, stop! – one of the soldiers called. The one that didn’t fuck, he was tense and angry.

The redhead stopped obediently.

\- Who are you? What are doing here? No one tell you you can’t come in here?

\- I’m sorry, my lord. I didn’t know, I’m not  from this house.

\- What do you have there? – asked the other one, sitting sprawled on the stool with his legs ajar, leaned against the wall.

\- A wine, my lord. Commander sends you a gift from the wedding.

Both guards looked more favorably at him at once.

\- Leave it, - commanded one of them. Micheletto set the demijohn on the table. – And thank the chief in our name.

\- Gladly, my lord, - murmured Micheletto and retreated.

He walked soundlessly and paused at the same place as before, waiting for the further development of events.

He had stolen a glance at the savage when the guards were more interested in the wine than in him. The Indian sat against the far wall, knees drew up to his chin, encircling his legs with his arms and staring ahead, into nothing.

The soldiers became louder, helping themselves with the alcohol readily. The praising for the boss soon gave way to complaints that they were left behind, with the useless and unnecessary task. Then they got the idea to play for drinks but before the round was finished they turned completely silent.

Micheletto count to one hundred, then strode to the cell once more. Approaching the unconscious men, he leaned down to take the keys from one’s pocket. He opened the cell. The savage still looked ahead as if obnoxious to everything happening around him.

Micheletto, not taking his eyes of him, loosened his vest and pulled the monk’s robe hidden beneath. Drawing a knife from the sleeve, he approached the prisoner and pulled him up. The Indian allowed himself to be handled like a rag doll though it never hurt to be cautious so  Micheletto put a knife to his throat and showed him to be silent just in case. A blade pressed to the neck was understandable in all languages.

The assassin put the robe on a lithe form before him, draped the hood over his head and tied a rope around his waist. He assessed his work. Only feet peeked out of the spacious robe. They were a little too dark but no one should notice. Barefooted begging monk was a daily sight in Rome.

The Indian was pretty, the assassin had to admit. Big dark eyes, long black hair and young unblemished face. In times when he was free and happy, he could be even breathtakingly beauty. Though it seemed not worth all the fuss to get him. Rome was full of pretty boys that would do anything his master wanted for a few coins. The savage might exotic and alluring at the outside but he seemed dead inside.

Micheletto wasn’t from judging though, he was from dirty job. He did everything his master demanded of him and now cardinal Borgia wanted the savage. So Micheletto would deliver him. He dragged the compliant prisoner with him to the streets of Rome.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The villa, owned by Rodrigo Borgia, now pope Alexander VI, seemed nearly completely abandoned. The curtains in the windows were drawn, furniture moved out, dust gathered in the empty halls. The Borgia family was currently leaving to some bigger palace, confiscated by the pope from one of the richer political enemies. Here, in the old house remained only a few chests, probably containing clothes or paintings.

The streets of Rome itself seemed less crowded because of the pope’s daughter wedding, which everyone wanted to attend. A villa without inhabitants was especially empty tonight. Even if there were some servants left to guard the possessions, they had sneaked out to the party already.

These were the reasons why Micheletto choose to led the captive to this particular building. It was an ill-suited hide for a longer time but at the moment it was the best he could get. The Indian would have to stay there until Micheletto organized the safe way to transport him out of the city of Rome. He would have to move the savage to one of the rural residences for at least as long as the Spanish remained in the city.

Once inside, Micheletto tied up Indian’s hands in the wrists with the rope from monk’s frock. The savage didn’t protest or resisted in any way but it never hurt to be careful. Then he went to the kitchen, dragging a listless captive with him. There were some leftovers of food. Micheletto took them, and the prisoner, and went upstairs where he could watch the street and the entrance to the house without being watched himself, hidden behind the thick curtain.

The room was likely dining hall once but now the chairs and the table had been taken out. Micheletto let go of the Indian, keeping a wary eye on him still. He offered the savage the cold chicken leg found in the kitchen but the Indian made no move to take it.

\- Eat, - told him Micheletto.

The Indian gave no sign he had heard him. He continued to act as if not caring what was happening around him and to him. He didn’t even look at Micheletto when the assassin spoke.

The redhead shrugged and placed the food on the ledge sticking out of the wall, then moved to resume his position near the window. After a while he saw the Indian approaching the left meat, taking it in bound hands, tasting hesitantly at first and then almost wolfing down.

Micheletto considered going to look for something more in the pantry but then the movement on the street below caught his eye. The cardinal red of the flying robes and the dark shag of hair told him unmistakably it was his master. Cesare seemed angry judging by his quick strides.

The door to the palace banged as if his lord opened them with a kick, then the hurried steps up the stairs were heard. Soon the double-winged doors to the room they were in parted and Cesare burst through them, unbuttoning his cardinal robe hastily on his way. He stepped in and…

…stopped dead in his tracks as soon as his eyes fell upon the Indian. The angry grimace disappeared from his face, replaced by something between shock and awe. The Indian, from his part, turned and looked straight at Cesare. Micheletto could not believe his eyes, after all that meek behavior, the savage was really _looking_ at his lord, not through him or at the wall behind, but straight at Cesare. The assassin was all the more surprised when the Indian actually spoke for the first time.

\- You, - he said in a strangely accented Spanish.

Cesare composed himself enough to be able to answer.

\- Welcome. My name is Cesare Borgia, - he said in his mother country language, adjusting to the savage. – I don’t believe I introduced myself earlier, I didn’t know you knew Spanish. Welcome in my house, - Cesare bowed slightly, - please, do feel like a guest.

\- Guest? – said the Indian, raising his bound hands a little.

Cesare seemed to notice the restrictions only now. He frowned slightly and glanced at Micheletto.

\- Untie him.

\- Is that wise, my lord? He might act placid but what if it’s only for a show? – Micheletto spoke in Italian , talking about the prisoner as if he wasn’t even there but his lord’s safety was more important.

\- Do what I say.

Micheletto complied reluctantly with his master’s order, going to the savage and retrieving his dagger. The Indian seemed not to notice him still, looking somewhere past his shoulder, at Cesare probably. But when Micheletto grabbed his wrists and brought the blade to them to cut the rope, he felt the other man tense minutely and wondered, not for the first time, how much of the Indian’s behavior was a foul play.

\- There, - said Micheletto more to Cesare than to the young man before him, retreating so that his eyes never leaved the savage, not turning his back on him.

Micheletto kept focused on both the savage and his master, keeping his distance but ready to burst into action if the Indian did even remotely threatening gesture. The Indian stood unmoved however. Cesare cleared his throat, straightening his unbuttoned, slipping robe.

\- Like I said, - he started, - be my guest. Enjoy my food and shelter. Do you have any wishes? Are you hungry or want to take a bath perhaps?

The Indian was silent through his master’s monologue and Micheletto thought he might not know so many words. But then the youth spoke up again.

\- Guest, - he repeated. – I can leave?

\- Well, why would you do that? – asked Cesare, clearly not happy with the Indian’s words but keeping calm. – If you wish to return to your homeland it would take some time… a ship must be found and a place on it-

\- I don’t have home, - said the Indian in a dead voice. – Destroyed.

To listen to such words spoke calmly, in a voice completely devoid of emotions was almost harder than if the savage had screamed them. The Indian looked resigned, hurt so much by the past he wasn’t even capable of feeling hatred now. It had the air of finality in it, of the ill fate that happened and cannot be unmade. Cesare looked stricken and like he was about to come to the youth’s side but stopped himself. Even Micheletto felt moved a little but not so much as to let it distract him.

\- Then why? – asked Cesare.

The Indian didn’t answer. He stood there with his lips pressed together and didn’t utter a word. When it was clear he wouldn’t answer, Cesare resumed his argument.

\- Listen, the world outside is dangerous. If you stay with me I can offer you protection, wealth, long life. I can make sure the people that captured you would never get you again but you have to stay here, for some time at least. Is there anything you want? Tell me- - the cardinal broke off, not sure how to address the Indian.  – Do you have a name?

The savage kept stubbornly silent although Micheletto was sure he understood his lord’s question. The assassin felt a surge of anger at the ingratitude. Cesare rescued the savage from the hands of his tortures, taking the risk. Now he was doing his best to act in a civilized manner, showing him kindness even though the captive was completely at his mercy. How dare the Indian refuse him anything, especially something as trivial as his name?

\- As you wish, - Cesare sighed, then addressed Micheletto. – I have to go back to the feast, I just came to change this ridiculous clothes into something more suiting. Guard him until I come back.

\- My lord, wouldn’t it be better to move him somewhere outside the city? When the Spanish delegacy is still here…

Cesare considered it but shook his head.

\- No, not yet. There are servants in all the residences in the countryside. Later we can do as you suggest or hide him in one of the monasteries but for now the fewer people know about him the safer it is.

\- What if the Spanish come looking for him? You wanted to buy him, my lord. They could suspect you.

\- They won’t voice their suspicions aloud if they don’t want to anger the pope and create the international affair. And anyway, father would never give them the permission to search one of his houses. They could always send someone unofficially, but, in that case, I have you.

Cesare smiled at him and clasped his arm and Micheletto felt as if his worries evaporated, at least for this short moment when his could bask in his lord’s attention.


	5. Chapter 5

\- Brother! – the overly happy and somewhat slurred voice reached Cesare as he was walking the street near St Peter’s Basilica. He turned the way it came from and saw Juan tearing his way toward him through the crowded street.

His brother looked like he walked straight from some sleazy tavern, his clothes were crumpled and stained with wine, his face pale with the dark circles under his eyes.

\- Juan, - Cesare forced himself to smile. – Was there not enough wine for you on Lucrezia’s wedding ceremony? Or you haven’t stop drinking since yesterday?

The younger pope son smiled wickedly, throwing an arm around Cesare’s shoulders and poked his chest with a forefinger.

\- These robes, - he stated with all the conviction of a drunk person, - don’t do you any favor. Is that my brother speaking or have you turned into a proper pious priest?

Cesare shook him off, as always annoyed at being reminded of his unwanted cardinal status. He sped his steps but Juan followed him.

\- Brother, wait! I… There is something you could help me with.

\- What? – gritted Cesare not slowing his pace.

\- That manservant of yours-

Cesare tensed.

\- Micheletto? – he murmured.

\- Yeah, him. Would you borrow him to me?

\- No.

\- But you didn’t even hear me out! – protested Juan. – There is this one bastard, the youngest Orsini. He insulted me during a card game. I thought he could use a lesson. I don’t mean to kill him but-

Cesare stopped, caught Juan by the scruff of his neck and pushed him at the nearest wall. It got them some attention from the people on the street but there were mostly contemptuous gazes at blocking the way than any interest in the spectacle.

\- Listen carefully, Micheletto is _my_ servant and not to be borrowed out like some random henchman. Besides, he’s for more important tasks than your petty card debts. If you insist on getting yourself into trouble, - Cesare’s voice relented into a fake caring tone and his grip on Juan’s nape relaxed to a gently hold, - better learn to deal with them on your own, little brother.

He let go of the younger man and walked away from him. Juan stayed behind this time, a grimace of displeasure twisting his face.

\- You’re just angry that father gave me the command of the army! – he shouted at Cesare. – Me and not you!

Cesare didn’t look back.

 

* * *

 

 

Micheletto was growing impatient with his present job. It wasn’t that babysitting the savage was boring. Because it wasn’t. It was rather unnerving. The creature lurking through the mansion like a ghost, with soundless steps and face expressing nothing got under the assassin’s skin. The blank eyes, though big, dark and pretty, didn’t reflect any emotion as if the spark of life was gone from them. All of the revival that Micheletto witnessed earlier, when Cesare showed up, disappeared. He tried to talk to the savage, to make at least a minimal contact, but his efforts went ignored.

And the worst thing was that this whole remote attitude seemed suspicious to him. Like the Indian was aiming to make himself invisible, to blend into the background, to camouflage perfectly his presence in order to make Micheletto lost him from the sight. It was an irrational thought and the assassin knew it yet his intuition gnawed at him. First of all, the Indian couldn’t disappear from the empty villa, Micheletto had locked all the outside doors; he was also locking any room they were currently in for better measure. No matter what Cesare had implied about being treated like a prisoner, his lord certainly didn’t want the savage gone, and the latter was unlikely to complain to Cesare about Micheletto anyway.

Furthermore, there were just the two of them in the building and it was physically impossible to lost the captive in any manner. Nevertheless the Indian was making Micheletto feel as exhausted with watching him as if the assassin was spying on him all day in a whole Rome.

The Indian didn’t move around much. He walked where Micheletto told him to go but otherwise did not wander the room aimlessly. He could stand motionless for hours resembling more a statue than a breathing human being. Most often he sat straight on the floor, cross-legged, with his eyes closed and hands put on his knees. That was what unsettled Micheletto the most: he looked like sleeping and yet like he wasn’t even there, like his spirit was detached from his body and yet like he was still wary of the surroundings.

Just to occupy his hands and mind with something he knew, Micheletto prepared a bath for him. The redhead had landed in few prisons in his life and knew what every jailer longed for after leaving the cell.

The Indian was reluctant to disrobe in front of him but did it eventually, shredding off the disguise of a monk’s frock, then the strings that was his own clothing that covered exactly nothing from the view. The captive’s body had bruises on the closer look, especially in intimate areas. There were imprints of someone’s fingers on the hips, something that could be a bite-mark near one nipple. The savage didn’t make any move to cover himself, he stood straight with his hands hanging by his sides but Micheletto could almost feel the uneasiness coming from him in waves. He probably feared he would be used in the same manner his former captors did. It was needless as Micheletto had no intention of touching what belonged to his master.

The assassin didn’t turn away his gaze however lest the savage would got the stupid idea of trying something while left unguarded for a minute. At the moment he just stood meekly by the tub, looking like a cornered animal.

\- Well, get in. It doesn’t bite, - Micheletto put his hand into the warm water and splashed it not getting his eyes off the Indian’s. -  See?

The assassin retreated to the wall and slouched there, crossing his forearms.

\- Just wash in it.

The Indian finally fulfilled his request. By now Micheletto was positively sure he understood majority of what was being said to him, the assassin had switched to Spanish for his sake.

The savage moved with an agility befitting a warrior which was surprising if compared to his usual docility. When he lowered himself Micheletto noticed the clench of his jaw when the water touched his ass though the Indian didn’t make any noise. He washed himself with mechanical movements of his hands, staring blankly into the liquid. When he dived in and water closed over his head, Micheletto made an anxious step forward but the savage resurfaced in a second. So he probably wasn’t trying to take his own life, that was good. His lord would be angry at him if Micheletto let the savage drown on his watch.

After he washed his body and hair as much as it was possible with clear water, the Indian just sat in the tub as if waiting for further instructions.

\- Well, if you’ve finished, you may get out, - stated the obvious Micheletto and the New World comer listened to him.

Standing next to the tub, the savage shook like the wet dog, sending the drips of water splashing everywhere and causing his long hair to flow around him and shit, that was arousing. Micheletto tossed him a cloth.

\- Here, dry with it.

The assassin felt relieved when the Indian put the material to his body, covering it a little. Apart from his mental state, the savage was hot with his perfectly sculpted body, lean but strong, not so much unlike Micheletto’s own. His skin was naturally dark, there was almost no body hair on it aside from pubic. His face, and whole appearances, held an exotic wild charm. Micheletto sighed, it was going to be a long watch.

 

* * *

 

 

\- I’m glad you came by, - repeated his mother for an umpteenth time this noon. – Help yourself with more cookies.

Cesare obediently put one more citrine biscuit on his plate. They sat at the table in the garden of his mother’s new villa. Joffrey played with carrier pigeons at the other side of the yard.

\- I feel lonely since Lucrezia departed. There is Joff of course, - Vanozza’s voice turned soft as she watched her youngest son smiling overjoyed that one of the birds sat on his hand full of grain. – But he’s still a child. With Lucrezia I could talk about many things… I planted oleanders there, she always liked them. They will blossom probably when she come visit us. She should like it, don’t you think?

\- Did you have a letter from her? – asked Cesare.

He was nervous about his sister’s marriage. The groom made the expression of being sour and haughty on him but one could hardly judge someone’s character after seeing him just through one night. Perhaps Lucrezia could make him more amiable with her innocence and good hearth but it would be better to hear a word from her than just hope for it.

\- A letter? Cesare, they’ve just left Rome. I’m not even sure they’ve reached their destination yet if they made breaks during travel. Do you expect your sister to write to you from the horseback? Give her a little liberty, she is a woman now, a wife during her honeymoon. You cannot protect her all the time, she started a new life yesterday. What a beautiful ceremony her wedding party was! – Vanozza changed the subject subtly and Cesare let her. His mother probably didn’t want to make him worry more, sharing with him her own doubts. - And I could witness it thanks to you. There is no greater happiness in mother’s life than when she sees her daughter outgrowing her in beauty and grace.

Cesare smiled at the dramatics.

\- Mother, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.

\- That could be once true but now Lucrezia bears that title. I was very glad I could be there, watch her entering the womanhood… Were it not for you, I wouldn’t have the pleasure and for that, Cesare, I am grateful even though you disobeyed your father for my sake.

Cesare grimaced.

\- Father shall never ban you from the wedding in the first place.

Vanozza fell silent for a moment as if wondering how to put in words what she wanted to say.

\- Everything your father does, he does for a reason. Rodrigo is a wise man and the safety of our family is most important to him. Try not to cross the lines with him, even though sometimes he might demand something that you not like or find hard to comply. We’re family. We have to stick together in order to stay strong.

 

* * *

 

 

Near the evening Cesare approached the abandoned villa’s servants’ back door. He wore simple clothes instead of rich cardinal robes. Black breeches, a shirt and a hooded cloak over it did not attract so much attention. He knocked in the agreed code and was let in by Micheletto.

\- My lord, - the assassin greeted him.

Cesare passed him with a clasp on his shoulder. The Indian stood in the shadowy corridor clad in monk’s frock.

\- Good evening, - addressed him Cesare in Spanish. – How are you? Still not eager to share your name or talk with me?

The savage stared at him with unsettling concentration.

\- Let me out, - he said quietly.

\- Now there is really not the time for it, - answered Cesare, slightly annoyed at the other man’s attitude. – The Spanish legacy is still in the city. Spanish, conquistadors, the men who captured you, do you understand? You must stay here at least for the time they won’t leave. Otherwise you may fall in their hands again. Do you see it’s impossible now?

But the Indian didn’t say more to him nor did he repeated his plea. Cesare walked toward him and raised his chin with his hand, looking into his eyes, trying to guess his mindset but he couldn’t read anything from the black orbs. The Indian allowed his touch like earlier, in papal audience room, without protest nor encouragement.

\- It won’t be long, - Cesare added, letting go of him. – A few more days I think. Then we’ll think about what to do with you.

A few hours later Cesare sat at one of the few remaining chair in the mansion, the second furniture occupied by a lonely candle and a blank sheet of paper. They didn’t want to fire any lights in the house to let people on the street believe the building was empty but the stores in the windows were thick in this room and Cesare figured one little flame shouldn’t be visible through them.

\- Are you worried about the savage, my lord? – Micheletto’s voice flew from the side and Cesare nearly jumped.

\- When did you get there? I didn’t hear you at all. – He waved his hand to stop Micheletto from explaining the unimportant question. – What about the savage? Is he unwell?

Micheletto shrugged.

\- He’s static, not different from how he was all day. I just thought…

Cesare looked expectantly at him.

\- If I may, my lord, you look worried. I thought the savage might be the cause of it.

Cesare smiled.

\- No. Though I appreciate your concern. To be honest, I expected a little different behavior from him.

\- Did you expect him to thank you?

\- I suppose so. Is it so much to demand?

\- Life taught me people rarely are truly grateful.

\- Maybe he doesn’t want to be dependent on me, - mused Cesare thoughtfully.

\- He’s far better here than he was with them, - protested Micheletto.

\- Where is he by the way?

\- Asleep, I think. His eyes were closed but it’s hard to tell with him. I locked the room just to be safe.

Cesare’s brow creased.

\- Don’t lock him. I don’t want him to feel more oppressed than is necessary. Let him wander the villa free at least.

Micheletto wasn’t too keen on the idea but bowed his head, not voicing his doubts, and moved to fulfill the request.

\- Wait, - Cesare’s word stopped him by the door.

Micheletto stood obediently.

\- You asked what troubles me, - started Cesare hesitantly. – I was thinking about Lucrezia.

Micheletto felt honored his master decided to tell him this. The assassin knew, as everyone else with eyes in Rome did, how close Cesare and Lucrezia were to each other. It was all the more a show of trust if his master decided to share with him his worries in the matter. The redhead listened silently to his master’s confession flowing quicker with each word.

\- What her husband is like? He’s too old and ugly for her but that doesn’t matter. I hope he treats her well, she deserves being treated like a queen. I was wondering if I should write to her but mother is probably right that it’s too soon for that… Anyway I hope Sforza can make her happy. Or at least not make her unhappy. It would be better for him to be worthy of her. For if I hear one word of complain from Lucrezia’s lips, I will kill Sforza myself.

\- Isn’t he an important ally? – observed Micheletto carefully.

\- I don’t give a shit about allies if Lucrezia’s happiness is on stake.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was ages since I watched the Borgias. I should probably rewatch it first, then write something. I hope the lacks in my memory don't kill the mood of the story.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a rather explicit one, be warned

Nights in Rome were warm during summer and it was even hotter inside, the inferior of the palace stuff from not being properly aired for days. The three men that inhibited the place since the previous day were very careful to maintain the impression the building was empty.

Micheletto stilled the dagger he’d been throwing up and catching in the flight. It was getting too dark to see the blade clearly and he didn’t dare to light any lamps. And what a poor protector would he be if hurt by his own weapon.

He got up from the bed, tucking in the dagger, and went to take a round through palace corridors. His master could sleep soundly if he wanted to but Micheletto wouldn’t close an eye peacefully with the Indian somewhere around. He would keep an eye on his master for him. The assassin still considered it a bad idea to let the savage wander as he pleased thorough the mansion. It would be more sensible to bind him or at least lock in some room instead of letting loose…

He saw him by accident as the Indian sneaked through one of the corridors. He walked soundlessly, despite the monk robe that still covered him, there was no swish of material, no footsteps heard.

The assassin stalked after him, silent himself, as the dark figure disappeared around the corner. Micheletto’s blood run faster, that was a way to a room Cesare reclined in for the night; one of the few that got bed inside still.

The Indian went straight to the doors, as if his with clear purpose in mind. He put a hand on the knob and stilled. Micheletto thought he had heard him or discovered his presence with some black magic tricks but the other man did not look around and Micheletto realized he was hesitating.

Should he intervene? That was the perfect moment to strike but something stopped him. The rational part of his mind insisted there was a lot of weapons that could be hid in the monk’s robe; on the other side was some indescribable feeling, an intuition shaped by years of being a killer himself – that told him the Indian had no deathly intentions.

Furthermore, there wasn’t really a weapon he could get in the palace now, everything was taken out, Micheletto kept his daggers at himself and Cesare, as a cardinal, didn’t carry a sword. It was possible to kill a man with bare hands of course but Micheletto doubted the slight savage would be able to take down his master in this way. Besides, struggling a man takes some time and Micheletto would be on him before the savage could finish.

Micheletto stood there motionless, rapt, observing the Indian, ready to act at any worrisome sign. The savage took a deep breath and pressed the doorknob, then slipped inside Cesare’s bedroom.

 

* * *

 

 

Cesare sprung up as he felt the covers sliding down his arm. He made a grab for it automatically and saw a dark figure looming over him.

\- What-

Only then his mind caught up with being alert and he identified the supposed threat as his exotic guest.

\- Why are you here? – he asked in Spanish, trying to make his voice sound nicer than a moment ago.

The uninvited incomer didn’t answer him, just looked straight in his eyes with such intensity Cesare had a rare desire to look away. He was used to winning staring contests but the mysterious black eyes scrutinized him as if their owner was able to see his soul.

Then the Indian straightened, and, lifting up his hands, pulled off the loose brown robe.

\- What are you doing? – asked Cesare, sharper this time as his gaze fell upon the completely naked body before him. Not even the few strings and rags that were his previous attire were present.

The Indian, still not answering, crawled into the bed. Cesare scooped backward, realizing with dread that his cock reacted to the sight. The Indian didn’t give him any time to think as he closed the remaining distance between them and put his lips on Cesare’s.

Cesare wanted to draw away but the small hands grabbed his face, preventing it. He uttered a protesting growl as he felt the tongue probing at his mouths but, to his dismay, it sounded more like an approving groan.

The Indian broke the kiss and leaned minutely away, just to look into Cesare’s face. If there was some confusion there, it quickly disappeared.

\- What are you doing? – repeated Cesare. – It’s wrong…

He realized the Indian was straddling him now, almost sitting in his lap.

\- You want me, - these were the first words the Indian spoke to him since walking into his room. - It’s in your eyes. You look at me like them when- - his voice caught.

\- Stop, - barked Cesare, angry at the comparison. - You don’t have to do this, that’s not why I took you from them. I’m not like them. Leave.

Cesare turned his head, shaking off the other man’s hands from his face.

Instead of listening to his request, the Indian bit his lip and reached to Cesare’s manhood where his cock stood up proudly by now. Cesare shuddered.

\- You want me, - repeated the Indian, sounding more confident.

Cesare wanted to tell him to get out, to leave, he wanted to deny his words but they rang true. And when the hand rubbed at his cock, and the other grabbed his right palm, bringing it to the jutting hip bone and the soft flesh below, he was lost.

He took a hold of Indian’s hip, changing the contact forced on him into the real touching, taking up all the initiative. He caught the Indian’s nape with his other hand – the hand working between his legs faltered somewhat – and brought him down into a second kiss. This time he was the one who invaded the Indian’s mouths with his tongue.

The other man let him, going along with his decisive movements, shifting accordingly to his wordless demands.

Cesare smacked at the hand playing with his cock, pushing it away. He wouldn’t be able to last long if he’d let it continue, he thought, going down with his mouths, kissing the Indian’s throat as the other man obediently leaned his head backward, baring more of his skin to Cesare’s lips and teethes.

Cesare hold him tightly to himself, let his hands embrace the other’s back, roam at his sides, reach down to his buttocks from time to time.

He pulled the Indian’s pelvis closer to his own in one sudden movement and the other man let out a sound, rather of distress than of pleasure but Cesare was too far gone to notice the details. And soon the Indian was silent again, wriggling his hips sensually, causing his buttocks to rub against Cesare’s prick.

Cesare panted, delirious from desire, his own loins rolling on their own; when he felt the Indian reaching downward again, taking Cesare’s cock and directing it into his entrance.

Cesare wanted to look at him but he saw only a glimpse of furrowed brows before his eyes closed at the wave of pleasure. The other man seemed slick inside as if he prepared himself earlier but it still was tighter than with any woman Cesare was.

He tightened his grip on the other’s hips, content to stay immobile for a time and enjoy the sensation as the tight heat enveloped him closely. Then the Indian’s hips moved hesitatingly again and Cesare took up the invitation, thrusting up, then withdrawing, lifting his partner up at the same time with his hands clasped at the other’s waist.

He was the one controlling all the movements now and dictating the rhythm but the Indian didn’t protest. He hid his face in the crook of Cesare’s neck, letting him do as he pleased, and pope’s son felt his ragged hot breath there and his hair tickling his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

 

Micheletto stood at the other side of the door, leaning against the solid wall, resting his head against it. He listened to the sounds coming from Cesare’s room as his master gave to the other what Micheletto did not dare to suggest to him. He wanted to leave and at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to stop listening to the heated gasps and groans of pleasure.

Eventually he retreated with a heavy heart beating too fast in his chest. His master would not have any need of him at the moment.

 

* * *

 

 

Cesare woke up in a lovely mood as a light dimmed by a heavy curtain fell across his face. Feeling pleasant languor in every part of his body, after the night spent on satisfactory activities, he stretched out upon the bed. That was when he realized he couldn’t move his hands.

Cesare’s eyes shot open, he yanked his hands harder, looking up at them. They were bound to the bed frame above his head. With a monk robe’s rope.

\- What the-

He looked around the room searchingly. It was empty. The Indian was gone.

\- Micheletto!

 

* * *

 

 

Micheletto rushed into the room shortly after hearing his master’s shout. He sprung through the door, knife in hand, ready to attack any opponent, be it Indian or any other sneaky intruder.

He didn’t expect the sight that greeted him, of Cesare laying naked upon the rustled sheets, bristling in anger, struggling with the ropes binding his hands.

\- Untie me, don’t just stand there! – roared Cesare.

Micheletto went to the bed obediently and cut the ties in quick precise motions.

\- Where is he? – snarled Cesare, rubbing at his wrists and standing up in haste. – Tell me he’s still here.

There was no need to ask whom he meant.

\- I did not see him today yet, my lord.

His breeches put on half-way, Cesare rummaged through his clothes scattered upon the floor.

\- He took the key! I got my spare key here. Damn it! Where were you?! – he advanced on his servant, yelling in his face. – You were supposed to guard him!

Micheletto met his anger with calmness.

\- I saw him coming here in the night. I did not wish to intrude, - he said with a blank face, not betraying any emotions, not allowing any opinion be heard in his tone.

Cesare’s anger fell down one step; the cardinal stopped looking like he wanted to hit something, or someone, immediately.

\- We have to find him, - announced his master.

**Author's Note:**

> Does anyone want to read a fanfic like this one?


End file.
